


Don't ask, don't tell

by n_nami



Series: 31 Cockles AUs in 31 days [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Ficlets, M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3086054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Jensen/Misha stories - a new installment is posted every day throughout January 2015.</p><p>Nr. 1: Jensen and Misha meet as marines during WW2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't ask, don't tell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm happy to see you found your way over here.  
> After all the 12 days of Christmas stories, I wanted to create something for the post-Christmas blues, and it needed to be Cockles. So here's the first ficlet, one that has been on my mind for a while. Enjoy!
> 
> A big Thank you goes out to my friend [Wendy](http://poorbeautifuldean.tumblr.com/) for betaing these :)

It was a rainy Thursday in October, 1941.

The day was neither special nor outstanding in any way; it was simply the day that Jensen Ackles was enrolled into the US Navy as a marine, barely old enough to be drafted. An older lieutenant was named as his mentor, to take him under his wing and show him the ropes.

That day, Jensen walked into the bunkroom that he shared with three other guys, two of which were on his opposite shift, to find a dark-haired man with eyes as blue as the sea standing at his bunk.

“Ackles?” he asked.

Jensen nodded and peeked at the sign on the man's uniform. “Lt. Collins,” he saluted.

“Don't worry about that in here. Welcome to the Navy.” The officer smiled, which had sealed Jensen's fate, in hindsight. And he had shaken Jensen's hand, patting the other hand onto his back.

Lt. Collins – Misha – had become his friend quickly over the following weeks at sea and during their training. Even facing the high probability that they would soon be shipped overseas, to fight against Nazi Germany, didn't seem to shake Misha's constant optimism and humor. Jensen could appreciate that.

Some six weeks after being enrolled, Jensen caught his Colonel for the first time, together with one of the younger lieutenants in the showers, obviously engaging in intercourse.

He hadn't told a soul, not even Misha. He hadn't even known what to tell.

Eventually, they had to go to the North Sea, and on the journey that took them multiple weeks, Jensen learned a lot. One, German submarines were a hassle to deal with. And second, what he caught the Colonel doing wasn't as uncommon as it seemed, since Jensen had once again found him with said lieutenant in the showers.

Colonel Sanders died in a German attack in May 1943. Multiple bullet wounds, including one that hit his neck, had him bleeding out on the floor. The crew was in mourning after that, since the Colonel had been a kind and very liked man among them.

“Lieutenant Smith must feel awful,” Jensen had mused that evening, when he was back in his bunk with Misha. “My heart goes out to him.”

“Why?” Misha had asked, confused.

So Jensen had explained it to him with reluctance.

“Oh, I see,” Misha had nodded, then bit his lip, which was rather distracting. “Jensen, you have to know that... what you saw, that wasn't what men and women share. Those among the crew who partake in these kinds of... activities, they only do it to pass the time, until they're back home with their wives. What other options are there, after all?”

“None, I guess. But indeed I didn't know that,” Jensen had answered. “I thought they were... never mind.”

Misha had been quiet for a long time after that. “I don't know how they can do it.”

Jensen had perked up at that. “You never have?”

To which Misha had shook his head, no.

“Don't you... I mean there's still the need, right? It surely can be dealt with, but...” Jensen had drifted off, feeling heat creep up his cheeks at the realization of what he implied.

“Depends,” Misha had replied with a lopsided smile.

“On?”

“The person.”

“So...” Jensen had dragged the word out, unsure of what to say. “Certain people, they make you desire that?”

“Certain people, yes,” Misha had looked straight into Jensen's eyes, those sharp blue eyes focused on him until he was nervous and wondering if he missed something.

Then, after long moments of heavy silence, Misha's gaze had shifted into something more feral, something that had made Jensen shiver with anticipation and an urge he had never felt quite as prominent ever before.

“Certain people, singular,” Jensen had prompted as soon as he was sure of the meaning of Misha's look, combined with the fact they were sitting on Misha's bunk, knees touching, facing each other.

Jensen would've never dared to take the first move, to lean forward and kiss that pair of lips that had tempted him unbeknownst since the very first day. However, Misha had dared to.

Jensen lost his virginity, that night in the bunk, and it wasn't perfect and he had to crawl up into his own bunk afterwards, but it was everything he had always wanted.

Except for the tiny detail that Misha was a man and behaved like one the day after.

It happened a lot more frequently over the following weeks, until Jensen took a bullet to the hip and could barely move for weeks. He never recovered fully from that injury, but it had Misha fussing over him and gave him the best excuse to come see him.

The war was long and took a lot from them, but they both made it.

When they shipped back home in 1946, they had lost a lot of their spirit in the war. Misha had lost his left ring finger due to a combat injury, and Jensen was still hobbling because of his bad hip. The shadows of the Nazis, of the images of comrades with their limbs severed from their lifeless bodies, the sound of gunfire, followed them home.

Jensen had had nothing, so he went back to his parents to Dallas, and Misha was residing somewhere near Houston for a while, then moved to Austin a year later.

For a while, Misha's letters were the only thing that kept Jensen going between nightmares, the pain in his hip, and his mother worrying over him.

In the end, Jensen chose to go to Austin, to meet Misha, just for a weekend.

He never came back.

After a week, he wrote a letter to his parents, saying that he was fine, having found a job and an old friend to live with; that he was happy, and he would come see them for the holidays. Misha wanted to come too, since he didn't have any family.

They lived a quiet and happy life, and even Jensen's mother eventually gave up finding a bride for him and accepted his wish to stay a bachelor.

“But you'll be lonely if you're not married,” she used to say, until she died in 1977.

“I have Misha,” Jensen used to answer, and by the way she returned his smile on her death bed, Jensen knew that she knew what it meant, and that she wasn't bothered by it.

It isn't until decades later that Jensen reads about situational homosexuality in the paper and wordlessly hands it over to Misha after reading the article.

“Interesting, huh?” Jensen smiles when Misha's eyes stop tracking the lines.

“Yeah,” Misha nods, his white hair shimmering in the morning light. “I never thought of it like that.”

“Makes sense, though.”

Misha nibbles on his bottom lip, just like he has done for the past sixty years, and stares into space. Jensen indulges in staring at him, at his fine, if wrinkled, features – lines of worry and happiness, all of which Jensen had been at his side to conquer with him – and those blue eyes that still stun him from time to time.

Eventually, Misha looks at him and asks, “How did you know it wasn't that?”

Jensen grins. “Easy. The moment we met, back at the station in Austin. I just knew it.”

Slowly, Misha's smile stretches over his beautiful face, and Jensen is breathless with how in love with him he still is, after all these years.

“Me too,” Misha says and leans over the corner of the table to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :) See you tomorrow!


End file.
